



mm 



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COPYRIGHT, 1921 
BY 

Mart Electa Fergus 
Chicago 



©CIA631945 



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SCENARIO: 



A BIT OF OLD LACE 



Scenes Laid In and About 
Edinburgh, Scotland 



BY 

MARY ELECTA FERGUS 



Chicago 
October, 1921 






Location 

The Scottish Central Lowlands on the Last em- 
brace the shires of Sterling, Clackmannan, Kinross and 
Fife. The famous Bridge over the Forth leads to 
Marcross Station in Kinross. The moorlands there 
have small scatterings of old houses built centuries ago, 
and these houses appear as though nothing new had 
been added to them in over two hundred years. Small 
lakes are interspersed on the moors. Loch Leven in 
Kinross contains an island with the remains of the 
historic Castle, where Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots, 
was confined (1567-8). 

In Kinross, this story begins, and continues at 
Edinburgh, and concludes at Portobello, a fishing re- 
sort, on the Firth of Forth. 



DEC 29 1921 

TMPS6-0Q6618 

4 



A BIT OF OLD LACE 



Mr. John Campbell relates the following story, told 
to him by Mr. George Burnie in Hazeldeen Manor, 
Edinburgh. (They are sitting beside a Cabinet 
of Choice Collections; George Burnie holds in his 
hand an old lace handkerchief that has been care- 
fully mended.) 

Scene I. 
Hazeldeen Manor, Edinburgh 

"THIS small piece of lace," said George, "is the 
most precious in our Cabinet. To explain I will go 
back several years to a Summer when I was travelling 
about for my health and motoring over the Moorlands 
of Scotland in and around Kinross. My destination 
was Edinburgh. 

"When I came near to Marcross, clouds threaten- 
ing rain caused me to look for shelter. A number of 
little old houses came into view. I stopped my car 
at one of these. A dim light shone through a cut dial 
over the door. I walked to the threshold and pulled an 
old-style knocker. A middle-aged woman opened the 
door. I inquired, 'May I find accommodations from 
the storm?' Hesitatingly she invited me in, saying, 'I 
will speak with my Sister.' I followed her into the 
living-room. I looked around the quaint room and 
viewed its antique furnishings — an ancient spinet 
piano, low book-shelves filled with books, a small fire- 
place with a tea-kettle placed upon a griddle attached 
to the grating. Presently my hostess returned and said, 
'You may place your car in the shed, and we will make 
3^ou as comfortable as possible.' She then lighted the 



fagots of sticks and presently the flames sent a blaze 
of warmth throughout the room. My evening meal 
was of cold mutton, oat-cakes, cheese and tea that I 
brewed myself from the cannister on the table and boil- 
ing water from the kettle on the hearth. My hostess 
said that her name was Miss Selwyn, and that my room 
would be in readiness on the floor above when ready 
to retire. 

"I sat there before the crackling embers in a remin- 
iscent mood and soon dozed off in slumber. Suddenly 
I was aroused by hearing a light footstep enter the 
room. I turned and saw a woman coming toward me, 
and could hardly believe that I was not dreaming. Her 
appearance was most startling, her dress, although 
worn, hung gracefully around her beautiful figure, her 
luxuriant hair fell down her shoulders, and her eyes 
were large and sorrowful, indeed she looked the pic- 
ture of distress. She sat down in a chair nearby and 
said, 'Sir, pardon me for intruding, but when I heard 
your voice I grew bold enough to come down stairs 
and ask your assistance. Are you going to Edinboro?' 
'I am,' I replied. She then in a hurried rambling man- 
ner told me how her little girl had been forcibly torn 
from her arms — by her — ' there she ceased speaking 
for Miss Selwyn came in and gently led her out of 
the room. I was too tired to think much about the 
incident at all and presently retired to my room and 
slept soundly throughout the night. 

"Early the next morning I arose and dressed for 
breakfast. Coffee and rolls were served me. I then 
made inquiry about my visitor on the night before. 
'Oh,' said Miss Selwyn, 'I am so sorry about it, she 
slipped away down stairs before we knew it. She 
comes of a fine family, and is our 'paid guest.' She 



is a poor unfortunate woman who is not responsible 
for the things she does or what she says. She has 
been here many years, and her cousin sends us a cheque 
every month for her keeping. Now, she is very little 
trouble to us, but is forever asking for her child, and 
when not combing her hair, she fondles an old piece of 
lace, this she keeps in her pocket wrapped up in an old 
chamois skin. We do not notice these actions any more, 
they keep her busy and quiet for a little while.' 

"I went out of doors and around the house to get 
my car, when who should step out from behind a door 
but my night visitor. 'Please try and find my little 
girl,' she said. I assured her, 'I will try.' I turned 
to get my bag, which I lifted and threw upon the front 
seat. Then I noticed that she had gone. With a sigh 
for the unfortunate one, I jumped into the front seat 
of the car and drove away. Along in the afternoon I 
stopped to see, if by chance, I might find a place to rest 
and take refreshment of some kind. Glancing back in 
the car in the bottom were my blankets all in a heap 
and under them I saw something move. Hastily I 
pulled the blankets aside and there found the poor 
woman all curled up. My first thought was to return 
with her to Miss Selwyn's. She begged me to take 
her to Edinburgh and something moved me to do so. I 
then assisted her upon the rear seat of the car and tried 
to make her comfortable and threw the blankets well 
over and nearly covering her person. My thoughts 
during the rest of the journey would be impossible to 
describe. I went direct to the home of my old college 
friend, Dr. Charles Stewart, for I had intended to 
visit with him and his family while in Edinburgh. 

"Late that night I drove up the roadway leading 
to his dwelling. His houseman, who came around to 



meet me, asked whom I wished to see? I handed him 
my card. I did not have to wait long, for my chum 
came hurriedly and appeared bareheaded and in house- 
jacket. I took him one side and explained all that 
had happened. He then helped me to assist the woman 
up through a side door leading to his office. We seated 
her in an easy chair. She refused the food offered to 
her, but drank a strong cup of tea, and was soon placed 
upon and resting upon a couch. 

"The Doctor and I conversed way into the night. 
I inquired about his family. Among other things he 
said that his son Roger had grown into manhood. 'My 
boy is causing his mother and I great worry, not that 
he is a bad son, the fault is that he refuses to pursue his 
studies and take up a profession that I have set my 
heart upon for him. Now, John,' said he, 'you may 
think I am unreasonable when I tell you what we object 
to in the things that he is doing. He seems to care for 
nothing else except to sail a boat around the Firth, very 
often the fishermen's boats, going to and staying around 
a settlement at Portobello, and there he mixes with 
these men and even makes merry with ordinary fish- 
women.' We were then interrupted in our talk by 
the entrance of Helen, the wife of the Doctor, who 
came forward and greetd me with a hearty 'Welcome,' 
and asked, 'What are you doing at this early hour of 
the morning?' The facts were soon told. Helen then 
opened the door to the Doctor's office and found that 
she had awakened our charge. Arrangements were 
made for her care and comfort. The women were much 
in the company of each other day after day, and in 
about a fortnight Madame took a change for the better 
in mind and body. She grew to feel at home in the 
Stewart family." 



A BIT OF OLD LACE 



Madeline Chambers Tells Her Story 



Scene II. 
The Stewart Home, Edinburgh 

"One evening after dinner, we had entered the 
living-room. Helen had assisted our guest to a couch. 
The Doctor and I then sat down in easy chairs. Helen 
asked us to draw a little nearer, and we drew our chairs 
toward the ladies. Our visitor asked permission to tell 
us her story. The Doctor said 'Please do so.' 

" 'My name is Madeline Chambers,' she began. 
'When my Father died, he left me alone with my lit- 
tle girl, then a child not over three years of age. A 
feeling of loneliness had come over me. I then sent 
for my only known relative living — a cousin, Percy 
Allan. I had not seen him since we were children. 
He lived in London and arrived at the Manor in time 
to attend the funeral services. Percy had never been 
a favorite in our Family. He had squandered a for- 
tune given to him by his father. He had since then 
lived by his wits and his debts. We had at times heard 
'stories' about him, and at heart had misgivings about 
Percy. Almost at first sight of him, I saw my mis- 
take, for his presence seemed repellent to me. I had 
expected that he would return to London after a few 

9 



days at Hazeldeen Manor,' (at mention of the Manor, 
Dr. Stewart said, 'I have a patient there'). Madeline 
continued, 'instead of going away, he had his mail for- 
warded to our place. When his letters came they 
seemed to irritate and annoy him. He would then 
storm around and curse his luck. The wines and liquors 
from our cellar would soon cheer him up. He would 
then become talkative. He grew familiar with the but- 
ler. The butler liked the opportunity of serving extra 
wines, especially to himself. 

' 'Late one afternoon, I had refused to listen to 
the proposals of love and marriage by Percy to me, 
and finally growing restless and nervous at his per- 
sistence, abruptly I left him. I quickly found little 
Jean and taking her hand in mine we went out into 
the garden. We ran back and forth upon the lawn, 
and played the game, 

DROP THE HANDKERCHIEF.' 

Jean enjoyed throwing it at my feet, and I would run 
to catch her. We were quite tired out, and I ran to 
and took a nearby seat. Jean swiftly followed me. I 
lifted her upon my lap. I took from her hand and held 
the handkerchief up to show her the pattern. Look, 
Jean, at this wreath woven around a tiny linen center. 
The Carrick-Marcross Company has made the wreath 
with a vine of Scottish thistle, an English rose, a lily 
of France and an Irish shamrock. I told her that the 
man had become famous who had drawn this wreath 
for the Lace Works. Little Jean could not under- 
stand it well. She took the handkerchief and seemed to 
love the dainty thing.' 

'Twilight had now set in, and we arose and en- 
tered the house. It was quite dark. In the library, we 

10 



found Percy and the old butler in an awful state of 
drunkenness. On seeing me, Percy came rushing 
toward us, and in gruff tones said, 'I will make you 
consent to marry me!' In anger I replied, 'No! I 
never will!' He then seized and dragged little Jean 
from my arms calling, 'You will not see her again, 
unless 3'ou do as I say!' He then with her in his arms 
ran down a rear stairway that led to the servants' quar- 
ters. I followed after him screaming all the wajr. Go- 
ing hurriedly down the stairs I stumbled and fell head 
first to the floor below. The fall must have made me 
unconscious. I never knew what happened after that. 
My mind was a blank until I awoke in Miss Selwyn's 
house. I was there when I found you. I asked her, 
'What has happened, and what place am I in?' 'You 
are with friends, and have been ill a very long time,' 
that is all she would tell me. When I was able to 
walk about, she would take me out into the garden, and 
let me wander around. No one ever came there whom 
I could meet. An elderly woman, Miss Selwyn called 
her 'Sister,' sometimes would come and sit with me. 
She would never answer my questions. Once I tried 
to climb over a stone wall that enclosed the garden. I 
lost my hold and fell to the ground. I was told never 
to try anything like that again, that to do so would 
not help me. Miss Selwyn was distant with me, she 
was a soulless sort, silent and determined. I was weak- 
ened by my long illness, and discouraged with my poor 
effort to secure help or information from these women. 
I gave way to my fate and hoped something might 
happen to relieve my situation. I never was allowed 
any light at night. I sat at the window and watched 
the moon and stars. There I could see dimly my little 
treasure, 

11 



A TORN LACE HANDKERCHIEF, 

that I have told you about. They did not take that 
away from me. It was a comfort to unfold and gaze 
upon this plaything. It was the last one that little 
Jean and I had thrown the night that we were sepa- 
rated.' 

"Madeline ceased talking, she raised her hand to 
her brow. Helen's eyes were filled with tears. Dr. 
Stewart muttering his anger walked up and down the 
room. I reached over to Madeline, and taking both her 
hands in mine, held them tremblingly. 'You are all so 
kind to me,' she said, and looking up into my eyes, she 
added, 'I shall never be able to show you how grateful 
I am. You have helped save me from that fate, an 
atmosphere worse than death.' 'Yes you can,' I whis- 
pered, 'You can let me care for you the rest of your 
life.' Helen and the Doctor left the room. I then 
told Madeline how much I loved her, and in response 
to my ardor, she confessed how she had trusted and 
loved me from the beginning that evening we had 
first met at Miss Selwyn's. 



12 



A BIT OF OLD LACE 



Scene III. 

Hazeldeen Manor, Edinburgh 

"Dr. Stewart arranged that we should accompany 
him to Hazeldeen Manor. Madeline was strong enough 
now to undergo the meeting with her Cousin. We ar- 
rived there late one afternoon. The Doctor went in 
alone to see Mr. Percy Allan. Helen, Madeline and 
I remained outside in the car. Madeline seemed very 
much affected when she saw the old familiar grounds 
where she had last played with her child. In a few 
minutes, the Doctor returned and suggested going into 
the house. An old stooped-shouldered servant led us 
through the hallway into the reception-room. There 
Percy Allan came tottering toward us. He looked 
wretched. 'Madeline,' he said, 'Forgive me, I had 
thought that you were beyond recovery when I left 
you with Miss Selwyn.' 'Tell me,' said Madeline, 
'where I can find my little Jean. This is all, I ask 
you.' He declared that he knew nothing at all of the 
child's whereabouts. 'For,' continued Percy, 'the night 
the butler placed her in one of the servants' rooms alone, 
she disappeared. I had called to him to come and help 
me. You had fainted. We brought you to. You 
opened your eyes and looked wildly at us. You could 
not speak a word. We in our fright had sobered up. 
Then the butler went in search of Jean. He failed to 
find a trace of her. The physician advised that you 
be taken to and placed under the care of a private 

13 



family that he knew of. This family kept 'paid guests.' 
Unfortunate persons were so called.' 

"Madeline was overcome by this interview. She 
grieved not to receive better news of her lost child. 
She requested that we tell Peixry Allan to depart with- 
out delay, and a like order was given for the butler. 
They both packed their things and went away to Lon- 
don that night. 

"Helen remained at the Manor with Madeline. A 
maid was sent for from the Stewart home. She brought 
with her clothing and necessary articles for Helen and 
Madeline. I returned to the Doctor's home with him. 
There, the Doctor found his son, Roger, awaiting him. 
A quarrel arose between the Doctor and Roger. Roger 
defied his Father and left the house. I then made up 
my mind to find out what Roger was doing out at Por- 
tobello." 



14 



A BIT OF OLD LACE 



Scene IV. 
On the Beach at Portobello, Scotland 

"The next day I set out to go to the fishermen's 
resort. I arrived at Portobello in a few hours. On 
the beach I saw the waves dashing high and roll in 
upon the shore. Men were hauling in fish in nets. 
Men were placing nets to dry. Men were mending 
nets. Women were carrying baskets of fish strapped 
upon their backs. Their hair was black and fell in 
heavy braids. They had on bright-colored home-spun, 
short flannel skirts, and short-sleeved blouses thrown 
open at the throat. They wore woolen stockings 
and heavy rough shoes. The scene was pictur- 
esque. My attention was directed to a crude platform. 
There preparations were under way for activities in the 
evening. An old man was playing a Scottish reel upon 
a bag-pipe. Several couples began to dance in a gro- 
tesque manner : swinging each other wildly around. All 
gave life and color to this busy port. 

"A boat had been drawn in upon the sands. I 
saw Roger Stewart there talking to a young girl. She 
was so unlike the other women. Her hair was like 
spun-gold and clung in curls around a lovely, smiling 
face. 'No wonder,' I thought, 'Roger comes to Porto- 
bello, if he is as happy as he looks in company with that 
lovely girl.' She left him, ran to a 'shack' and pres- 

15 



ently returned with a scarf. This she placed around 
her shoulders. They strolled toward the dancers. 

"Something caused me to go to the shack, the one 
Roger's companion came out of. In the room through 
the doorway I saw an old fish-woman. She was wind- 
ing cord that nets are made of. I paused there for a 
moment or two, and then went forward and entered the 
room. 



16 



A BIT OF OLD LACE 



Hannah Hem's Story 



Scene V. 
The Hein Shack, Portobello 

"The old fish-woman asked me, 'What do you 
want?' I then explained that I would like to know 
something about that beautiful girl who had just left 
her, and the young lad who was with her. She eyed 
me intently and then seemed satisfied at my presence. 

" 'Roger,' she began, 'comes from Edinboro, nearly 
every day. He helps the men in their work. He seems 
to like my Lassie's company.' I ventured, 'Is she your 
daughter?' There was no answer. Then I heard her 
say, 'No, but I have brought her up. She has lived here 
with me since I found her.' 'Tell me,' I then said, 
'your name and how she came to live with you.' 

' 'I am 'Hannah,' Hannah Hein. I have a brother 
William. He is a shepherd. He lives on a stock-farm 
away over the hills. I had visited him — this coming 
Autumn — twelve years ago. I was on my way home 
on foot about dusk. I had come down a steep hill. In 
the midst of a sheet of fog, I saw something on the 
ground. I thought the object was a stray 'lambie.' 
On lifting, I found it was a little Lassie. I brought 
her home, to this very place. 'She is a little girl that 
had been left to my keeping,' that's all I would say to 
my neighbors. I have brought her up the best I could. 

17 



I have saved her from hard work. She has helped 
me dry and mend nets for the fishermen.' I asked, 
'Do you know any of her relatives or her friends?' 
'No,' said Hannah. 'Was anything on her person when 
you found her? Was there any mark to tell who she 
was?' 'Only a little dress that she wore,' was her reply 
to my questions. Hannah left the room. She came 
back with a bundle. It was wrapped in old paper. 
'Here it is/ she said. 'And, oh, yes, here is a piece of 
torn lace. The child had clutched this in her hand. 
She held it when I picked her up.' My heart beat 
rapidly. I became greatly excited. I looked at the 
little piece of lace. I saw at once the flowers woven 
on it. The pattern was the same. The piece matched 
the one Madeline had told us about. I then told Han- 
nah that the articles were most important. 'May I 
take the dress and lace to Edinburgh? I promise to 
return them as soon as possible,' was all I could say. 
I finally won her consent. 

"I returned to Edinburgh. I lost no time in going 
to Hazeldeen Manor. I found Madeline. I showed 
her the lost piece of lace and the old dress. Her face 
became white. She seemed to faint. She knew the 
truth. Her loved one had been found. Madeline 
laughed, she cried, she laughed and cried hysterically. 

"Within a few hours we were on our way to the 
shore. Dr. and Helen Stewart were in the car. Mad- 
eline thought the trip would never end. The seconds 
seemed minutes, the minutes seemed hours. We drew 
up at last to the Hein Shack. There standing near the 
doorway stood Roger and Lassie. Dr. Stewart left the 
car. He walked toward the house. He called out, 
'Roger, my lad, everything is all right, come here.' 
The boy said something to the girl. He then took her 

18 



hand in his. Roger then came with her in haste to 
his Father. We then had joined them. The Doctor 
then told his son in our presence of the things that had 
happened that day. Madeline threw her arms joyously 
around Lassie and embraced her again and again. Her 
Mother called her 'Jean' and other old endearing names. 
Madeline asked Jean to call her 'Mother.' 

"A happy group of persons that evening motored 
back to Hazeldeen Manor. 

"Old Hannah Hein was given a home at the 
Manor. 

"My stoiy nears the end. Roger willingly con- 
tinued in the studies his Father desired. Jean received 
instruction at home. 

"Two years ago, Madeline became my wife. Jean 
and Roger will be married this coming Christmas. 

"Tonight, John Campbell, you will meet here at 
dinner Dr. and Helen Stewart, Jean and Roger, and 
Madeline, my good wife." 



19 



A BIT OF OLD LACE 



Mr. John Campbell and Mr. George Burnie are sitting 
beside a Cabinet of Choice Collections. (Mr. 
Burnie holds in his hand an old lace handker- 
chief.) 



Scene VI. 

Hazeldeen Manor, Edinburgh 

(The same as Scene I.) 

" 'Now, John, you see that this little treasure has 
brought every happiness to our dear Home, and you 
will understand why above all things in our Cabinet, 
the most precious is this keepsake, 

A BIT OF OLD LACE.' " 



THE end 



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